


The Maw

by Ruler_of_Nope_Island



Category: The Terror (TV 2018)
Genre: M/M, cannibalism mention, they live
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-22
Updated: 2018-07-22
Packaged: 2019-06-14 09:50:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15386166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ruler_of_Nope_Island/pseuds/Ruler_of_Nope_Island
Summary: PWP,  a companion piece to my other Hickey/Tozer works.





	The Maw

After that business in the Arctic they lose themselves in the streets of the cities of the New World. There’s nothing new about the filthy underbellies of these places, the places that Cornelius knows best. He has to teach Solomon, of course. Solomon who was so upright, so sure. Chest like a barrel, legs like tree trunks, piercing blue-grey eyes. A hero for the ages. An Englishman, for God, for Country, for the Queen. Even when he was with Billy, Cornelius would make his hammock swing when he thought of what lay underneath that uniform. 

As Cornelius Hickey once became a caulker’s mate - or once become Cornelius Hickey- Solomon Tozer must learn to be a creature of the underworld. Solomon grew back the muscle he’d lost and forgotten most of his scruples. He fights hard and dirty and gives no quarter. That would have made him ideal. Cornelius always needed some muscle behind him. But Tozer is fragile; he cries at night, spouting gibberish about Collins and the monster and souls and Cornelius has to comfort him. 

Yes, Sol, what we saw on the ice was real. It happened. It was awful. I don’t know if we are damned. I don’t believe in God. I don’t care. It doesn’t matter. Stop crying. For fuck’s sake, stop crying. What’s wrong with you? Act like a man -

Solomon backhands him after that, spits on him, swears at him, tells him he’s a disgusting sodomite and storms out. And Cornelius waits with a book - a habit he’d picked up from Hodgson, along with the man’s boots and winter coat - until Solomon returns, drunk and bleeding. 

“I’m leaving,” he says and waits for the man to crumple. “What, you think I’d stay for a man who thinks I’m revolting? With all that I’ve done for you? I kept you alive -”  
“Cornelius-” Solomon’s voice is heavy with tears and reeks of stale beer. He puts his large hands on Cornelius’s shoulders. “Please.”  
“I’m the only one who knows,” Cornelius says. “I’m the only person in the world who knows and believes you. Will your doxies do that?”  
“I don’t,” Solomon mumbles. “Not anymore. I can’t.”

Here they are again; Cornelius comforting Solomon, even though he’s sporting the cut lip and a nose that’s just stopped bleeding. 

“I just want -” he stares at Cornelius, eyes like a kicked dog, “I want -”  
Cornelius gives a fraternal chuckle. He feels nothing.   
“You are too drunk to know what you want. Go to bed, Sol. We’ll sort it out in the morning.”

*

There are worse ways to be woken up than a hot mouth sucking your prick. What the act lacs in finesse is made up for enthusiasm. He stretches a little, braces one hand against the wall and puts his other in his companion’s hair.   
“Oh god,” he says, trying to keep the grin out of his voice. “Like that. Yes. Yes.”  
He pushes his hips up to make his words sincere only to find those strong fingers he’d admired pushing them back into the bed. Of course there will have to be recompense for this act; he’ll probably have to roll over for a rough and eager buggering and casts his mind about for something to ease the way. He’ll be damned if he’ll resort to spit. That cock - the thought of which makes his own cock twitch and his hips try to push upwards again - is thick and solid and he didn’t fancy walking around with a limp for the next few days. He licks his lips and imagines the day he feels the lips currently wrapped around him pressed against his own. That will be -   
“Ah -” he gasps, and spends. Not into the wet heat of Solomon’s mouth, they’re not quite there yet, but it’s a good start. He thought it would be hands down each others’ trousers in the dead of night but Solomon Tozer is nothing if not a man of action. 

There is a small pot of cream - Cornelius can’t stand to have his skin chapped or chafing - so after the necessaries are done and things have been explained - he gets on his hands and knees and tries not to clench. Billy preferred to receive - no matter his protestations to the contrary - so Cornelius is out of practice. Luckily Solomon takes to the act quickly, working out which angles and how hard and will not be fucking hurried, keeping his thrusts deep and even. Cornelius almost feels resentful at how good Sol is making him feel, how he makes him spend again, since it is a forceful reminder that he needs Solomon in his own way. 

After Solomon finishes, they clean themselves and he insists they get back into bed.  
“It’s too cold out,” Solomon insists. He wraps his arms around Cornelius and kisses the back of his neck. Cornelius remembers he used to do the same for Billy when they were done and the thought that he could be anything like that will not be silenced. 

He is the one who eats, not the one who is eaten. But Solomon is the only other person who knows. The only other person who believes. There is no one else for him. The trick will be to make sure Solomon never finds this out.


End file.
